


Salvation

by Arandil



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars: Rebellion Era - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-04 21:39:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3091208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arandil/pseuds/Arandil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens when a girl's world is destroyed, literally? Why, she seeks revenge. And along the way, despite herself, she unexpectedly finds friendship and happiness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning of a Saga

Have you ever laid in bed at night and wondered why your life turned out the way it did? Have you ever thought that maybe you were on a set path and none of your decisions mattered? Did you ever feel that Fate was the master of your existence, and She was, for some unknown reason, gaining enjoyment out of your torment? Did you ever give up hope because of this?

My name is Lana Amorada and this is my story.

I don't want to completely bore you with background, but I feel it is necessary to start with where I come from, if for no other reason than to pay homage to my birth planet and all the people there who were so needlessly destroyed. You see, my home planet was Alderaan. Yes, you have all heard of it, to be sure, but not because of me. Oh no, I'm sure you've heard of another, more famous, Alderaanian by the name of Princess Leia Organa. Everybody has heard of her and if you haven't, come out from the asteroid you've been living in.

But, sorry to disappoint you, this story is not about her, not directly anyway. You see, while living on Alderaan I never actually, officially _met_ the Princess. Oh, I saw her countless times during my childhood when I would go to visit my father at work. He was one of the Royal Guard of Alderaan, which, although others may consider it a prestigious career, meant that he got to spend eight hours a day standing in one place and not saying a word.

Yeah, sounds like a dream job to me too.

But because of it, we got to live in the capital city, in a modest home provided to us by the wonderful government. And when I say modest, I of course mean small, cramped and shared with a lovely family of mice who felt that they had as much right to live there as we did. Needless to say, I did not spend a lot of time at home. His job also granted me access to the palace, where I would spend most of my time in the library, instead of out and about; doing whatever it was other women my age were doing.

Oh, I haven't told you about the women of Alderaan yet, have I?

I honestly don't know if I should waste my breath. I'll tell you something though. Later on, when I started to hear stories of the different heroic acts carried out by the Princess, it shocked me. I mean, if she had been like any of these other women, it would have been all about what clothes she was wearing, what man was she being courted by, or what her hair looked like. Although I do have to say, even in my youth, her hair was something that never failed to astonish me.

But I digress. Where was I? Oh yes, the women of Alderaan. In case you haven't yet guessed, I didn't take much liking to their company. I would have, trust me, I would have, if nonsensical babble appealed to me. But, sadly for me, it didn’t. So I found myself in solitude most of the time which, in all honesty, was not a bad thing.

I spent most of my alone time in the palace library, as I was saying before. It was a magnificent place, and usually deserted, so I cold roam around freely and read as I wished. I read about the grand history of Alderaan, the glory of the Old Republic and many, many other books on subjects of science and nature. The more I read, the less use I had for the other girls my age. I guess my reading jaded me. Although, my reading also changed my life.

You see, I found this book about the Jedi. Somehow it survived the purge the Empire executed a while back to rid the galaxy of all Jedi and any information regarding them. I suppose they burned the books because they were worried someone would come along and learn enough to pose a threat. Either that or it was just that ass Palpatine flexing his oppressive muscle, reminding everyone just how much power the Empire truly had. 

I was about eighteen at the time, so the fact that learning about the Jedi was completely rebellious excited me. Not to mention the Jedi religion and their so-called Force fascinated me. How powerful had these Jedi been that the Empire saw them as such a threat as to have to totally eradicate them? Were any of them still alive? Could anyone learn the ways of the Force? Could I? I dedicated all of my free time to researching it, hungry for more and more knowledge.

I never truly believed in it, not at first. Eventually the initial excitement wore off, especially since I couldn’t discuss what I learned with anyone, not even my father. It was far too dangerous to speak openly about a subject of which the Empire did not approve. I continued to avidly read books written before the time of the purge to see if I could find any information about the Jedi, but over time the reality of their existence became just additional interesting history about the Old Republic. Until one morning on my way to the library…

“Hey look, there's the frumpy book-worm, Lana.”

“Oh Lana, have you found a husband in one of your books yet?” I didn’t even have to look to know who the two evil witches were behind me. Ok, they weren't evil witches _really_ , but most of the time they acted like it.

One of them snickered. “What kind of a man would want to marry _that_?” Ok, yes. Yes, they _were_ evil witches.

I spun around to face the two over-dressed, painted-faced bimbos. “Just because you need a man to do your thinking, doesn’t mean the rest of us who actually possess a brain do.” They smirked at me, identical gloating expressions on both of their faces, probably not understanding any of the words over one syllable I had just used. I turned back around and proceeded to walk away from them.

The one dim-witted witch turned to her equally obtuse friend. “The only way _she_ would get a man,” she giggled nasally, “is if he wrapped her face with a towel so he didn't have to ever look at it.” The two ignoramuses exploded into laughter. Honestly, couldn't they have come up with a better insult?

Still, at the time, I sort of lost my temper. I whirled around and threw my arm out, finger pointed, surely about to launch a scathing remark in their direction. That was, until I saw a decent sized rock that had been laying about a meter from my foot fly through the air and hit witch number one square in the stomach. She doubled over in pain.

“Hey!” her friend cried, “She just kicked a rock at us!”

Horrified, I felt my pulse start to race. Library forgotten, I ran past them as fast as I could. Although it may have given me great satisfaction, I knew I did _not_ kick a rock at them. I didn’t stop running until I reached my home. Once I caught my breath, I began to think of possible explanation for what had just happened. One, the one I thought the most implausible, kept returning to the forefront of my mind.

In my anger, could I have, somehow, made that rock fly at her?


	2. Encounter Among the Archives

So I guess I should tell you what I look like, not that it will make much of an impression on you. If someone were to describe me in one word, it would be something like bland, uninteresting, unremarkable. Ok, that was three words, but you get the picture. I have light brown eyes, light brown skin and light brown hair. I generally don't wear bright flashy clothes. I'm not a big fan of standing out in a crowd, and I don't; not usually, anyway. I don't like attracting much attention to myself. It's just easier that way. And yet all this still happened to me.

But I'm getting ahead of myself again. I tend to do that sometimes. I will go back to the day I was speaking of, the day that I realized perhaps there was something to that Jedi religion I had obsessed so much about.

Back at home I frantically paced the length of our small sitting room, thoroughly shaken by the possibility that I made a rock fly through the air _without touching it._ After repeatedly telling myself that telekinesis was not physically possible, and not believing a word of it, I decided to go to the palace. I don't know if I originally intended to go to the palace library or if I simply knew my father would be there and it made me feel safer. Either way, I headed out in the direction of the palace; careful to keep my head down and not make any more weird things happen.

Regardless of my intentions, my feet automatically took me to the library. Here, the anxiety over what happened began to wash away and I felt a familiar calm begin to envelop me. I know it sounds stupid if you are not one of those people who delight in being alone in the tranquil quiet, surrounded by books of history and possibility, but the library always felt like a safe haven to me; one where nobody could bother or hurt me and I could leave my current life and live others through my reading.

But today I was not here to lose myself. Today, I needed answers. Specifically, what had caused that dratted rock to hurl itself through the air? I surely had not heard the end of this little incident and I wanted to be armed with facts and knowledge if and when it came up again. Besides, I needed an explanation to ease my own uncertainty.

I had no sooner assembled several books in piles on the floor and sat down, ready to begin my research, when a voice – a _male_ voice no less – startled me from behind.

“You're Lana, aren’t you? Faolan’s daughter?”

I jumped up and whirled around to face the owner of the voice, knocking over several piles of books in the process. Much to my surprise, I recognized the man standing there. He had been at the last excruciatingly inane quarterly reception Bail Organa held for his palace workers and their families. He was the son of one of the new palace guards – the need for additional guards an obvious reflection of the increased unrest in the galaxy – and much sought after by the ladies of the town. Why, I have no idea, for he did not look anything spectacular to me. But he was a new face, and single, and they were stupid cows.

“What are you doing here?” I narrowed my eyes at him and put my hands on my hips, quite annoyed that I had been interrupted before I even had the chance to start.

His laugh startled me, both its quality and the fact that he was _laughing_ at me. “So confrontational, aren’t we?” His voice turned mock serious. “But then, I had heard that about you.”

His easygoing manner, as well as the fact that he was quite obviously insulting me, continued to aggravate me and I snapped back at him. “I suppose then you have nothing better to do with your buddies than discuss my _confrontational_ manner?”

He smiled and shook his head at me. “Relax, Lana. All I wanted to do was introduce myself, since I didn’t get a chance to do so last week at the party.” He laughed again. “I didn't expect to have to…”

A sudden burst of giggles coming from the hallway outside interrupted his reparation. We both snapped our heads around to look towards the entrance of the library. I had a funny feeling I knew who I would see walking by. Before anyone came into view, the guy grabbed my wrist and practically dragged me behind one of the larger shelves, knocking over the rest of my piles of books. I pulled against his grip to get free.

“Let go of me, you big lout!”

He motioned urgently with his free hand for me to be quiet. I would have continued to struggle if it hadn't been for the look of pure terror in his eyes. Intrigued by this interesting development, I stopped fighting and followed his gaze through the bookshelf out the door just as the very same two women I encountered earlier passed by.

As the giggling sounds faded, he released my wrist and stepped back out from behind the shelf motioning for me to follow. I carefully walked around my disheveled books, trying to push them into a pile with my foot. I didn’t suppose he would stick around long enough to assist in the clean up of the mess he helped to cause. I rubbed my wrist and looked up at him. It didn’t help my mood that his expression was once more relaxed and calm.

“Well, that was close,” he said with a smile, widening his eyes expressively.

I was not amused. That was it? After all that, that’s all I got? My hands once more returned to my hips and I cocked an eyebrow at him. “I think I deserve an explanation. And perhaps a warning next time you decide to handle me so roughly.”

He laughed _again_ at me, and then schooled his expression when he must have finally noticed I was not currently appreciating whatever humor he found in the situation. “It's just Mairi and Selia, constantly following me around. If I have to pick up one more of their handkerchiefs that they ‘accidentally’ drop in my presence…”

He shuddered and I finally began to see _some_ humor. At least I wasn't the only one who couldn’t stand those girls.

“As for my rough handling of you, I’m sorry,” he continued. “I just didn't want them to spot me and I’ve seen how they act towards you. I was afraid they’d see you and come in here for the sheer joy of tormenting you.”

I laughed at that, against my better judgment before I could stop myself. He seemed pleased with himself at getting me to laugh.

“I’m sure tormenting me, as you say, gives them pleasure.” I smirked at him. “Their pea-sized brains can’t come up with other amusement, and I guess I’m an easy target.”

He gave me a large smile and despite myself, I noticed how it made his eyes crinkle. “Ah, a kindred spirit. I’m glad to find someone with less love for them than I have.” I found myself smiling back at him and quickly schooled my features and looked away. I waited, expecting the clever comment about my confrontational nature, or lack of it now, but it didn't come.

We stood in silence for a few moments before I glanced back up at him. His eyes were narrowed in concentration as if he were searching for something in my face. Uncomfortable under his scrutiny, I dropped my gaze again and saw my books still sprawled all over the floor. I knelt down and began to straighten them up, mostly for something to occupy my mind and my hands, when I heard him speak again.

“Why do you do that?”

“Well _someone_ went and knocked them all over...” I began, knowing full well he wasn’t talking about the books.

“Lana…” He knelt down across from me and put his hand over mine, stopping my actions. I pulled my hand away and sat back on my feet, completely unnerved by his calm voice and gentle actions.                                                                                                    

“Go ahead…” I jutted my chin defiantly at him. “Tell me I’m confrontational. Or that I’m miserable to be around. How nobody would ever want to be my friend.”

He held my gaze, his eyes wide and honest. “I want to be your friend.”

Well, I knew how to respond to that. My brain went right into autopilot.                                                             

“I don't need any friends.” His sympathetic smile was too much and I went back to straightening my books, not wanting to meet his gaze any longer.

“Sure you do,” he said kindly and took the book I was holding. He placed it on the floor and put a hand on my arm. That got me to look up at him. “Everybody should have at least one friend.”

The warmth of his touch on my arm and the sincerity in his eyes were making me uncomfortable, so the next words tumbled out uncontrolled.

“I don't _want_ any friends.” My voice was cold and my eyes narrowed but I didn’t mean what I said and regretted it almost immediately. Unfortunately, all he saw was my facial expression and all he heard were my harsh words.

“Very well,” he said tersely as he stood up. “Perhaps someday you will change your mind. I just hope it won't be too late then to find some.”

He turned and walked out of the library leaving me to my books at last but for the first time in my life, I had no desire to read. I couldn’t help thinking about what he had said, about everyone needing a friend when I realized I hadn’t even found out his name.


	3. Look What Followed Me Home

I remained in the library for several hours and as time passed and I became more engrossed in my research, the sting of the unnamed man's parting words began to fade. Still, as I left to return home I couldn't help but ponder what he said. It consumed my thoughts throughout the entire walk home.

I didn't need friends. I had never had any and seemed to be doing all right so far, right?

As I entered our quaint little mouse-infested house, I heard my father call to me from the other room. “Lana, is that you?”

I didn't answer because I didn't feel that such an obvious question warranted a response. Hey, at least I didn't say something snarky or sarcastic. I do have _some_ respect for authority. I sat down ungracefully on the worn old couch that dominated most of the room.

A moment later, my father entered the front room and after giving me a scathing look for sitting in what was most definitely a manner 'unbecoming to a lady' in his opinion, asked yet another obvious question.

“What, were you at the library all this time?” He smiled warmly at me, ever tolerant of my peculiar inclination to spend inordinate amounts of time pouring through books. Well, peculiar compared to the other mindless women in the…oh never mind. I'm not going to start with that again.

Still, I was in a perverse mood, mostly from my earlier encounter with a mystery man, not to mention the whole rock incident, and I was in no condition for polite conversation. “No, father, I was having tea with the princess. We were discussing how I might wear my hair for the spring festival.” I said _some_ respect, not _heaps_ of it.

He sighed and I felt instant remorse for my words. I loved my father, and _did_ respect him, quite a bit, but he usually bore the brunt of my bitterness and sarcasm when I was in a mood. He did so patiently and good-naturedly, which only served to make my self-reproach worse after the fact. I smiled meekly up at him in a silent apology and started again.

“Yes, father, I was at the library.” I thought about telling him of what happened earlier, with the rock and all, but decided against it. He had plenty of his own problems to worry about and I wasn't about to burden him with my own. Instead, I abruptly changed the conversation. “Have you any preferences for dinner tonight?”

“No, Lana, whatever you like.” I stood and started towards the kitchen when I heard him call. “Oh and Lana,” I turned back to face him and noticed that his eyes were crinkled and his mouth was pursed in a mischievous smile. “I made sure there were no rocks in there.” He raised his eyebrows at me. “It wouldn't do to have you go throwing them around breaking what little plates and glasses as we have.” My mouth dropped in shock at the fact that he knew of the incident already and was _joking_ about it.

“I didn't _throw_ …” I began.

“It's ok,” he interrupted. “I'm sure you were provoked. And besides,” his smile broadened, “I'm sure Kieran’s and Delano's daughters deserved whatever they got.” He winked then and sat down, opening up a book that had been lying on the table next to the couch. I took the indication that our conversation was over, and he was not angry, and went into our small kitchen in the back of the house to start dinner.

I hadn't been in the kitchen long when my father came back to join me, an unusual look on his face. I stopped my supper preparations and gave him my full attention, partly because I was still sorry for my earlier temper, partly because whatever he had to say was sure to be interesting, judging by his expression. In this I was not mistaken.

“Lana, there appears to be a gentleman at our door.” My first thought was that I hadn't even heard a knock. My second was _why is he telling me this?_ My third was that the gentleman must have asked for me. My fourth was _panic!_ My fifth was…

“Lana?” My father's questioning tone effectively stopped any an all of my thoughts and I returned focus back to him.

“Father?” I parroted back in much the same tone that he had just used.

He ignored this and gave me a puzzled look. “I know you heard what I said, and yet you stand there and stare at me as if you did not.”

I rolled my eyes and sighed, relenting to play the guessing game he was apparently angling for. “Fine…why is there a gentleman at our door?”

He raised an eyebrow at me. “You tell me.” I frowned at him, not understanding. “Apparently, he was in your company earlier, for he claims to be returning a handkerchief that you had dropped.”

I punched my fists against my hips and regarded my father with a none-too-patient look. “Father, you know as well as I do that I don't own any handkerchiefs.”

He smiled cunningly at me. “That I do. Which is what makes this so interesting. I asked to make sure he had the right house, which he insists that he does, so I had hoped that you could shed some light on this situation.”

I sighed again, removing my hands from my hips and folding my arms across my chest. “I suppose, then, you want me to go talk to him.” His only response was to smile deviously at me. “Oh all right,” I relented and started towards the door. “Keep an eye on dinner.” I said in parting.

I entered the front room and saw this gentleman standing close to the front door, his back turned towards me. I crossed my arms across my chest and addressed him. “Can I help you?”

As he turned around a gasp escaped my lips and I quickly schooled the look of shock I could feel on my face. “You!” I exclaimed. Yes, it wasn't my most brilliant oration, but give me a break. I was stunned into stupidity.

He smiled meekly at me. “Me.” I stood there and narrowed my eyes at him, his earlier parting words and manner itching at my patience. “I came to return your handkerchief.” He extended a hand to me and I noticed it was grasping a dainty lady's handkerchief. I didn't move to take it from him. Apparently, this was amusing to him because I saw a ghost of a smile cross his lips.

It wasn't amusing to me. “I don't own any handkerchiefs.”

“Oh,” he said plainly, but his manner and voice indicated that he knew this and my irritation grew. He placed the handkerchief on the arm of the couch. “My mistake.” He grinned annoyingly at me. “Well, while I'm here…”

I didn't let him finish. I had no desire to find out what he intended to do 'while he was here'. “We were just sitting down to dinner.”

He smiled again at me. “How kind of you to invite me to stay for dinner, after all we just met.”

I tried to interrupt again. He knew damn well that I hadn't just invited him to dinner. “I didn't mean to…”

“I would be _delighted_ to have dinner with you and your father.” The guy would just not be stopped. And the most infuriating part was that he was thoroughly _enjoying_ himself, the bastard.

“You aren't welcome to…”

“It would be an honor and a _privilege_ to eat with such esteemed…”

“STOP!” I couldn't take it anymore. He came to my house on a false premise, and then proceeded to…to…I don't even _know_ what he was doing, but I was certainly not enjoying it. If this is what having friends was like then I was right, I was better off without. I took a deep breath after my outburst and glared right at him, a move that usually caused people to look away, but he returned my gaze, completely unfazed. “I think you need to leave.” I said as coldly as I could manage.

Only then did he hang his head. He looked back up at me and smiled apologetically. “Look, Lana, I was just teasing. I came here to apologize for storming out before.” He shrugged. “You're just so easy to get going, I couldn't resist.”

I continued to glare at him, but against my own will I felt a smile start to creep across my face for I knew the truth in his words. I bit it back, lest it get around that I was turning soft.

“But,” he continued, “If you want me to leave…” he shrugged again and turned to walk out. Against my better judgment I called out to him.

“Wait.” He turned back around with a triumphant smile on his face. I guess I could let that go just this once. “If you want, you can stay for dinner,” I nearly muttered. He stood there and beamed at me, and the fact that eating my cooking could make anyone so happy just blew my mind. “But…” He stopped smiling like a fool at last. “Only if you promise, no more teasing.”

He turned his face into mock defeat. “I guess I won't be staying for dinner then. That's a promise I can't give.”

I shook my head at him and let out an exasperated sigh, completely baffled as to what to do with him. I turned to go back to the kitchen and called back over my shoulder, “Dinner's in five minutes.”


	4. Seeds of Friendship

Dinner was interesting, to say the least. The fun began even before the meal did. We were just heading into the dining room when my father, observant creature that he was, turned to me.

“I see that you've invited your friend to dinner.” He seemed just a little too pleased with this.

“He's not my friend.” I quickly replied, frowning at my father and thoroughly not appreciating the fact of how happy the new dinner situation seemed to make him.

“Lana doesn't have any friends.” Mr. Uninvited said as plainly as if he was stating an unarguable fact such as 'the sky is blue' or 'the ladies of Alderaan are idiots.' I turned and glared at him, this unwelcome visitor in my home, my arms already folded across my chest. Undaunted by this, he smiled at me, the picture of all innocence, and shrugged. “That's what you told me.”

“And I suppose you are now the wealth of all knowledge about me and my life.” This man was so irritating; I had never met anyone like him. Why wouldn't he just go away?

My father, sensing that my foul mood was not improving because of this conversation, interrupted then, speaking soothingly to me. “Easy, Lana.” I turned my glare on him, honestly having forgotten he was in the room until he spoke. How was it that this man could demand so much of my attention that I forgot someone else was there?

Apparently, my father's words did not affect the man, because he responded to me as if my father had never spoken. “I know far more about you than you would think.” His voice was quiet, and his expression was still serene, but there was something about his eyes that were at odds with his outward expression.

His whole bearing, and his assuming words, infuriated me further. Out of the corner of my eye I saw my father close his eyes and drop his head in frustration, but I paid him no heed. “Yeah, well, I know plenty about you too,” I snapped, ready to recite a long list of everything I was sure I knew about him, garnered from all my past experiences with others.

The man raised an eyebrow at me and folded his arms across his chest, mirroring my pose, although his mouth was still curved in a smile. “Oh really?” He scoffed and leaned closer to me. “You don’t even know my name.”

“Shall we eat?” My father, ever the peacemaker, was trying, but we were already as a snowball rolling down the hill. There was too much momentum for the conversation to just stop now.

I ventured a quick glance at my father before glaring back at the man. “Yeah, well, that’s because you never _told_ me your name…”

He didn't answer me but instead addressed my father. “I'm terribly sorry, sir. I think you are right, and we should begin to eat.” My father was apparently satisfied with that and began to walk to the table, but I most certainly was not placated.

“How am I supposed to _know_ something when you never _told_ me?”

“How can you presume to know _someone_ when you don’t even know their _name_?”

We stood there for a moment, eyes locked with each other's, before my father spun to face me. “His name is Bowen.” He turned to the man, Bowen. “Shall we eat now?” I will give him credit; he was really trying to keep everything smooth and peaceful.

Bowen, as it were, and I held our gaze for a few moments longer before he broke it and looked at my father. “I think that's a wonderful idea, Faolan.” And without another look at me, he walked to the table and sat down.

My father gave me an encouraging smile and motioned for me to join them. Severely dazed after having been matched so easily in a contest of words, I silently took my place at the table.

The tension that had grown in the air was short lived, for my father and Bowen had much to speak of to each other. I guess it shouldn't have surprised me that they got on so well. After all, my father did work with Bowen's father in the Royal Guard. I ate my dinner in silence for the most part, which was an oddity for me, but I had nothing to say, and much as I was loathe to admit it, I enjoyed hearing the two of them talk of the goings on in the palace.

When dinner was over, I began to clear the plates, but my father stopped me. “Lana, why don't you and Bowen go sit outside. It's a beautiful evening, and we may not have many more like it this year, for winter is fast approaching.”

I knew what he was trying to do, but after the little scene before dinner I was in no state to fight with anyone about anything, so I just shrugged. “If you're sure you don't need help in here.”

My father shook his head no, and went into the kitchen carrying some plates. I turned to Bowen and realized that for the second time that night, I was at a loss for words.

Finally, after thoroughly berating myself for my sudden lack of mental skills, I frowned at him and said the only thing that came into my head. “Are you coming?”

He turned a scrutinizing look on me and regarded me for a few moments. “Do you want me to?”

I did, but I couldn’t actually let him know that so I shrugged.

He shook his head, disappointment clear in his eyes. “I think you spend far too much time alone with your books.”

His words struck a nerve, sounding entirely too much like so many encounters with the bitter, stupid women of the town. I narrowed my eyes at him. “I'm going outside. Yes, believe it or not, I _do_ go outside. I don't just sit inside and read. Believe what you want about me, I don't care. If you want to listen to those stuck-up, half-witted, narrowminded…”

“Lana!” His exclamation startled me out of my rant. He stood up and came over to me and grabbed both of my shoulders. I felt my body stiffen at the touch, but he didn't make any indication that he noticed. I looked up at him with my lips pursed and saw that he was regarding me with a puzzled look. “I’m not…” He exhaled in a sigh, not finishing his thought and instead asking, “Why are you so quick to take offense?”

I stepped back and pulled out of his grasp. “Why are you so quick to be an ass?” I glared at him and then stormed out of the little house, slamming myself down on to the worn wooden bench to the right of our front door. I expected him to come outside. I also expected him to ignore me and leave, never to talk to me again. Part of me wanted that. Most of me did not and that terrified me.

He did come outside, but instead of leaving he sat down next to me. He turned sideways so he could look at me, but I continued to face front.

“I'm sorry you think I'm an ass. I didn't come over tonight, or talk to you in the library this afternoon, to upset you.”

As he took a breath, I turned to him. “Why did you, then?”

He smiled warmly at me, and I wondered how he didn't hate me by this point. “Because I wanted to be your friend.”

I was incredulous. Never had anybody made this much effort to get to know me, or claim to want to be my friend. Most people minded their business, and I never had reason to take issue with that, or try to change it.

“Why?” I asked, both suspicious and hopeful.

He laughed, and I found myself fascinated with the heartiness of the sound of it. “You're so _interesting_.” He smiled and put a hand on my shoulder when he saw that I took mild offense to that. “No, that's a good thing. Most people around here are all the same. You're like a breath of fresh air.”

Thoroughly embarrassed by what he just said, I dropped my head, but I could not help the smile that was spreading across my face. There are probably hundreds of answers that he could have given to that question, but he managed to pick the exact right one to completely disarm me.

I'm pretty sure he realized this, because when I was able to look back up at him, he had what could only be described as a triumphant smile on his face. For once, I smiled back at him, happy, but shocked, that I had one friend in the world. Maybe he was right; maybe everyone did need at least one friend.

After a moment he stood up and, looking up at the sky, he sighed deeply before turning back to me. “I hate to do this, but I have to get home.”

A pang of disappointment hit me, effectively shocking my system, for it was the last thing I expected to feel. But nonetheless, I felt it, and it further unbalanced my already teetering emotions. I stood up and nodded in agreement. “It _is_ getting late.”

“Well then, until we meet again, _friend_ Lana.” He gave me a jaunty wink and I couldn't help but laugh at his mannerisms.

“Ok…” I hesitated to use the word, but there was no way around it after he said it. “ _friend_ Bowen.” He smiled broadly at this, pivoted on his heels and began to walk down the path, stopping once to turn and wave.

I waved back, and as he faded from view I shook my head, both at him and at my own behavior as of late. I walked back into the house to be greeted by my father, standing barely inside the front door.

“Has Bowen left already? You _were_ courteous to him out there, weren't you?”

I rolled my eyes. “Of _course_ , father.” I said to him, smiling due to my unusually good mood. “In fact, after all that, he _still_ wants to be my friend.”

My father raised his eyebrows at me. “Your _friend_?” He shook his head and his eyes were filled with doubt. “Are you sure that's all?”

I narrowed my eyes at my father. “Why _wouldn't_ that be all?”

“Well,” he began, his eyes twinkling; “He's making quite an effort for someone who merely wants to be your friend.” I stood and stared at my father in shock. He smiled at that, kissed my forehead and turned to go to bed, calling over his shoulder, “Have a good sleep.”

I stood and stared after him for a while, and then my eye caught sight of the handkerchief still lying on the arm of the sofa. I walked over and picked it up, examining it as if it could give me answers. My father had no idea what he was talking about. The idea that Bowen wanted anything more than to be my friend was purely ridiculous. I was able to push that thought out of my head, but the seed that my father had planted remained there, dormant, ready to grow if it were so encouraged.


	5. Confrontation

When I woke up the next day, I knew I had to get back on track. I got up early but I still missed my father before he left for work. I wanted to talk to him about the whole rock incident from the morning before. Yes, it had only been one day. It's amazing how much can happen in a day.

So I went back to the library with the intention of doing research. Now, you may be wondering how it is that I had so much leisure time with which to hang around libraries and propel small objects at women I don’t particularly get on with. Well, whether you are wondering or not I'm going to tell you, so you'd better just deal with it.

I should have been in my last year of University. All of the other girls my age were, which kept them occupied for most of the week. Gossip and their hair kept them occupied for the rest. But anyway, I managed to finish a semester early, and so had a whole semester free before I would have to choose a profession and go into apprenticeship or go to secondary school.

I knew I wasn't going to secondary school. Although it masqueraded as academic, it was really just a place for the women to go to meet husbands. I had no place there. I contemplated many professions, but the one I was seriously considering at the time of the “rock incident” was Interplanetary Shuttle Pilot. I’d even submitted my application paperwork to a training facility that seemed to have a pretty decent program.

But as I walked to the library that crisp fall morning, I wondered if there wasn’t something more. Romanticized tales of heroism and bravery had filled my head and I’d never been as passionate about anything as when I researched the Jedi. I knew it was ridiculous – and highly dangerous to even think about – but I couldn't stop my mind from wandering there. The possibility that I had the powers to become a Jedi – even if there weren’t any others left – was too exciting not to ponder. If, in fact, the whole thing yesterday wasn't somehow an accident.

So once again I found myself in the library looking for answers. This time, however, I wasn't counting on research to find those answers. Oh no, I was bent on experimentation. I grabbed a sizable book and went as far back into the stacks as I possibly could, hiding myself from the view of anybody that would possibly enter the library. There I sat, on the floor with the book laying several feet away from me.

I probably looked ridiculous, sitting there, staring intently at a book lying on the floor, but I had to know. Either the book would move or, well, I don't know or what. But I had to try. I don't know how long I sat there staring at that damn book – without a twitch of movement from it, may I add – when I heard a voice behind me.

“You know, it works better when you open them up.”

I didn't even have to turn around to know who it was. I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose with my fingers. “Why?” I wasn't even really talking to him, more to the greater powers of the universe. Why did this man insist on tracking me down and interrupting when I was quite obviously in the middle of something? He obviously thought I was talking to him though, and felt the need to respond to my rhetorical question.

“Well, then at least you can see the words.” I turned to see him grinning at me, proud of the joke he apparently thought he just made. I couldn't help but smile at his foolishness and shake my head at him.

“I meant…oh never mind.” It dawned on me that it was a school day and he shouldn’t even be here harassing me. “Shouldn't you be in class?”

He smiled at me in the way that made his eyes crinkle. “Career day.” He shrugged. “I'm here seeing what it would be like to be in the Royal Guard.”

“Why?” I asked, and I couldn't help but hear the amount of disdain I had in my voice. He heard it too, and he stiffened at my words.

“Because that's what I'm going to be.” He frowned at me. “What's wrong with the Royal Guard? Both our fathers are in it.”

I could see that he had been stung by my words, and I completely did not understand. “Don't you want more than that? Don't you want to get off this planet, and see the galaxy?”

He folded his arms across his chest. “Oh and I supposed that whatever you've decided to do with your life will accomplish that for you.”

“It just may.” I folded my arms, mirroring his stance and stuck my chin out at him in a defiant pose.

He smirked at me and cocked an eyebrow. “And just what profession would that be?”

I could have said 'Interplanetary Shuttle Pilot.' I could have. It probably would have shut him up and the conversation would have been over and I could have gotten back to my little experiment. But no, when have I ever taken the easy way?

“I don’t know.” I took a deep breath and decided to plunge ahead. “I'd have liked to be a Jedi, if such a thing still existed.” I regretted the words as soon as they were out of my mouth, even before I saw his wide-eyed, slack-jawed expression.

“Lana, you can’t say things like that!” he said after a moment, his voice harsh and low. “Do you know what could happen if the wrong people heard you?”

I did not answer, but instead glared at him, my arms folded across my chest. After a bit more staring at me, he went on in an intense whisper.

“You _do_ realize the Empire has killed people for less?”

I was spared from answering him due to the high-pitched squealing giggles coming from just outside the library. Bowen tensed, looking very much like one of the jungle cats that lived in the wilds outside the city. Then, after taking a deep breath, he slumped his shoulders and dropped his head into his hand in a look of utter defeat.

I caught his eye and grimaced at him, although I was glad for the distraction. “Tell me they're here because _they_ want to be Royal Guards as well.”

He sighed the sigh of someone who has been much harassed. “No, they're here so that I can ask to escort Mairi to the harvest festival.”

I dropped his gaze. “Oh.” I didn't know how else to respond to that. Here was my supposed friend, asking a girl who had been a nightmare to me for most of my life to go to a festival with him.

“Hey,” he said sharply and I looked back up at him. “I don't _want_ to ask her. They just won't stop pestering me.”

“Oh.” I repeated. How was it that he could rob me of any intelligent thought processes? This was twice, now.

“This conversation isn’t over…” he assured me. His eyes darted among the stacks of books. “Um… Cover for me.” He quickly ducked behind one of the stacks, and before I could ask him what he was talking about, I heard another voice behind me.

“Oh, look at who it is! You're looking especially _foul_ today, Lana.” I took a deep breath before I turned around. I was already unsettled by my conversation with Bowen and not only was this sure to be an unpleasant experience, but I couldn't even truly spat with them. I had to keep in mind that whatever I said, Bowen would be able to hear it. I was about to say something back when Bowen's words came into my head. ‘Cover for me,’ he had said.

“Bowen's not here.”

The two girls snickered. “Of course he's not here!” the one said. “We came to see you.”

I stared blankly at them for a moment, trying to figure out what power of the universe I had angered to warrant this. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to subdue my anger and annoyance with them. I opened my eyes and folded my arms across my chest.

“Why?”

The blonde one glared at me, and if I didn't know how little use of her brain she had, I may have been intimidated. “We heard you had dinner with Bowen last night.”

I rolled my eyes in annoyance. Seriously, if being his friend was going to cause me to have to talk to these dogs, I would pass on the friendship thing. “And?”

The brown-haired girl stepped forward. “And you'd better back off.” She had the nerve to push her finger in my face. “He's going with Mairi to the festival,” she indicated the other girl, “so don't get any ideas.”

I remember thinking many things at this time. I remember thinking of several retorts, most of which involved the getting of ideas, and their lack of ability to do so. I recall trying to remember _Mairi, blond; Selia, brunette_ so that I knew which one I was pummeling should future opportunities arise. I also remember a small part of my brain reminding me that Bowen was listening, and to keep that in mind when I responded.

Instead of any of these thoughts prevailing, I turned to Mairi (blonde) and heard myself saying in as sweet a mocking tone as I could manage, “Aww, it's too bad he hasn't asked you…”

I saw a flash of anger in her eyes before she composed herself and smiled just as sweetly back at me, shaking her head. “Poor, poor Lana. You honestly think he has any interest in you?” Selia laughed and Mairi, encouraged by her friend, continued, stepping closer and speaking in a dangerously quiet tone. “Don't get any ideas, you ugly little wench. If he has any interest in you, it's for one thing only. He will use you and throw you away like the dirty little whore that you are.”

Before I had a chance to react, she and Selia ran out of the library, giggling to themselves at their perceived victory. I felt my blood boil, and it was probably best that they did so, because I was mad enough to strangle one of them. I heard Bowen behind me reluctantly coming out from behind the shelves.

I whirled around, shouting at him. “Did you _hear_ what they just _said_ to me?” As I completed my turn I saw his astonished face as he jumped out of the way of the book that had flown from its position on the floor, at least two meters away from me, and slammed against the wall behind him.

Shock effectively removed all my anger and I stood facing him, my mouth hanging open. We both remained immobile, staring at each other for several minutes in silence before I managed to speak.

“Did you see that?” I was barely able to whisper. He just stood there and nodded at me. Neither of us moved, or said anything, and I’m fairly certain I forgot to breathe at one point. Finally he shook his head, apparently trying to collect himself. When he spoke to me, his voice was cool and he would not meet my gaze.

“I need to leave. I have to get back.” With that he walked out of the library without a backward glance towards me.


	6. Aftermath

I can remember two instances in my life when I cried. The first was the day I found out my mother was not ever going to come home. I remember sitting on the couch next to my father, clutching desperately to her favorite jacket and crying until my eyes ran dry. I was six.

The second time comes into play later on in this story.

If I had been the crying type, I would most definitely have been sitting on the library floor, weeping a river. But I was not. Crying was for babies and stupid girls who insult me so badly and get me so riled up that I lose my temper, causing objects to fly through the air and scare off the only person that I ever even considered calling a friend.

Oh no, I did not cry, but don’t think for a moment I wasn’t effected.

After Bowen left I considered going after him, but thought better of it. What would I say? ‘Surprise! I can make things fly at people when I’m mad. Still want to be my friend?’ I don’t think so. Better just to let him go and forget that I ever even talked to him. Except that was easier said than done.

Eventually, after staring at the book that had flown across the room for what was probably the good portion of ten minutes, I decided to leave the library, not to look for Bowen but to return home. I was not going to get anything else accomplished that day. Besides, I had already done what I had set out to do. I proved that the incident the day before was not a fluke.

But honestly, what did it matter? The person I, for some strange reason, wanted to share it with would probably never talk to me again.

Or so I thought.

My whole walk home I sulked and pouted and, I admit, it was not my finest hour. So wrapped up as I was in my silent brooding I failed to notice someone sitting on the bench outside my home as I approached. I stopped short when I noticed him, a tense feeling settling in the pit of my stomach.

“I thought you had to get back,” I snipped.

“I had to come here. I…” he broke off and looked around, a nervous expression on his face. “We should go inside.”

I nodded and opened the door, holding it for him behind me. I sat on the couch but almost immediately stood back up, wound too tightly to be able to sit still for any amount of time. Bowen closed the door behind him and fastened the lock. I saw his shoulders tense right before he turned toward me.

“So…” I said and then bit down hard on my lip, aggravated at myself. I just wanted to prompt him to speak. Why did it sound so bitter and angry?

“So…” he repeated, and then grimaced at me. “Does anyone else know?”

“No.”

“Good.” He breathed a very obvious sigh of relief. “Let’s make sure we keep it that way.”

Inexplicably, his words chafed. “You want me to hide what I am?”

“Yes, Lana,” he sounded annoyed. “If it means keeping you from getting _killed_ , I most _certainly_ want you to hide what you are.”

I scoffed. Surely he was overreacting.

“Come on,” he said gently, stepping towards me and taking my hands in his. I let him, because at that moment it felt nice to be connected to someone else, like I wouldn’t have to face whatever was coming alone. Until he continued his sentence.

“You know what happened to your mother.” I felt like I had been doused with a tub of ice cold water. I barely heard his next words. “Why do you think it would be any different for you?”

“My mother died in a shuttle accident,” I managed to choke out.

A barrage of emotions passed through his eyes. I was able to read some of them before he schooled himself: Shock. Pity. Regret.

“Oh no,” he breathed. “You don’t…”

My stomach clenched in a knot and I pulled my hands back. “What don’t I know, Bowen?” My voice rose in volume and pitch. “What happened to my mother?”

He sunk down onto the couch and hung his head, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

“Answer me!” I shouted, looming over him. He looked up at me and if my heart hadn’t been pounding and I wasn’t about to vomit up my breakfast, I might have been moved by the sadness I saw in his eyes. I willed him to answer, both wanting to hear and dreading what he had to say.

“The Empire took her.” He stood and ran his hands down my arms in what I guess was his poor attempt at comfort, taking my hands in his once again. “She wasn’t even a Jedi anymore,” he blurted quickly, as if the speed at which he told me would make any of it better. “She left the order when she met your father. But they hunted her down anyway.”

Through everything that pesky traitor Hope reared its ugly head.

“If they took her, then she could still be alive?”

Bowen actually blanched. “No. They… wanted to set an example.” He gripped my hands tighter. “Oh, Lana, I am so, so sorry…”

I pulled away from him. “How is it you know all this?” I heard the accusation in my tone. Why should he know these intimate details of my life when I did not?

He took a deep, shaky breath. “My father was on duty when the Empire sent the holo. I heard him and my mom talking about it that night. It’s why we left the city. They didn’t want me to grow up where I could be exposed to these things.”

“Well, how lucky for you,” I spat bitterly.

“Lana…” he reached out towards me but I stepped away from him. With a pained expression he continued, “I am so sorry to tell you this, but I just…” He came towards me again and gripped my arms tightly. “You can’t tell anyone what happened in the library. Nobody can know you can do that.”

I didn’t move; I _couldn’t_ move. Until finally all I wanted was him out of my house, out of my life. I pulled my arms out of his grasp.

“Leave.”

He frowned. “What?”

“ _Leave_ ,” I repeated, more forcefully.

“Lana… I didn’t…” he held his hands out to me and I smacked them away.

“I said _leave_. Get _out_.”

“Please,” he begged. “Just let me…”

“You’ve done enough!” I shouted, putting my hands against his chest and shoving him roughly towards the door. “Now get _out_!”

I walked around him and unlocked and opened the door.

“Lana,” he pleaded.

“Don’t.” I snarled. “Just get out and don’t come back.” I clenched my teeth. “How _dare_ you. How dare you show up here and worm your way into my life just so you can what? Hurt me more than I’ve already been hurt?” The words flowed unbidden, loosed by the agonizing pain I felt clenching at my chest.

“No, of course…”

“I hate you!” I shouted, pushing him through the door. “I hate you and I wish I’d never met you.”

As I tried to slam the door in his face, he reached out and held on to it, preventing it from closing.

“Be that as it may, Lana, I am still your friend, and I will keep your secret.”

With that he let go of the door, and I pushed it closed and sagged against it, feeling as though my whole world was crashing down around me.


	7. Harvest Festival

I considered talking to my father, both telling him what I could do and confirming what Bowen had said about my mother, but I decided against it. I knew it was the truth. I can’t say how, but I just knew, and I figured I could spare him some pain by not bringing it up. And if I told him of what I was capable, that too would surely dredge up old hurt and memories and it would just be better not to speak of any of it.

Plus, if I didn’t discuss it with him it meant I could pretend it wasn’t real and never think about it again either.

I spent the next two weeks much as I had spent most of my life. I went to the library or I went to sit by the lake, then I went home to cook dinner for my father. He never asked why Bowen didn't come around again, which was probably for the best. I was trying my hardest to pretend that everything was the same it had always been and being reminded by my father of the person who had changed it all would have shattered my little lie to myself.

The morning of the festival I woke up in a foul mood. I hadn't planned on attending, but since I was feeling especially perverse, I chose to go and see who I could pick a fight with. I dressed quickly and headed for the door when I saw that stupid handkerchief sitting on the table by my bed.

If you asked me why I picked it up and stuffed it in my pocket, I would not have been able to tell you. I'm still not quite sure. Maybe I thought I might need it. Maybe I believed it would be of use when I was looking for something to strangle certain other women with. Or maybe it represented something I needed to hold on to.

Sure; right. Maybe I had just lost my mind.

Whatever the reason, handkerchief in pocket, I left the house and headed towards the festival. I went alone since my father was already there on duty, working on his day off. Have I mentioned yet how wonderful his job was? At any rate, as I approached and could see all the people dressed up like dolls I felt more and more eager, ready to run into someone on whom I could unleash my fury. That was, until I saw them: three pristine white mounds bobbing in unison slightly above the heads of the rest of the crowd, like evil moons.

There were Stormtroopers at the festival! My heart caught in my throat and I froze in place. I could feel my hands get all clammy. I don’t think I had ever been this nervous in my whole life.

I took a deep breath and slowed my pace towards the festival grounds. By the time I got there, the Stormtroopers had disappeared into the crowd. I tried to talk some reason into myself. It wasn’t unheard of for Stormtroopers to visit a planet. The Empire liked to keep its fist clenched tight around all the star systems within its jurisdiction; most likely their presence had nothing to do with me. I wandered around, trying to decide if I should go find my father or just go home when I felt a hand grab my arm and swing me around.

I got ready to fight off this person who had the nerve to touch me until I realized I was standing face to face with my father. I let out an exasperated sigh.

“Don't _do_ that!” He released my arm and I put my hands on my hips. “You scared me half to death.”

He smiled apologetically at me and then his manner abruptly changed and he looked around nervously. “I think you should go home.”

My stomach clenched. If my usually calm and easygoing father was nervous, it meant nothing good. “Oh come on, father. Surely you have enough faith that I won't cause _too_ much of a scene today.” I tried to tease but it felt unnatural.

He grabbed my arm and walked me towards the edge of the fairgrounds. “I'm serious, Lana. There are Stormtroopers here.” He lowered his voice ominously. “They were looking for _you_.”

Now the fear and uncertainty threatened to overtake me. “ _Me_?” I swallowed against the lump in my throat. Did they know about the rock? The book? How would they have found out?

I pressed my lips together as a name came almost instantly to my mind. The name I had been, for two weeks, trying to permanently eradicate from my memory. Bowen. That bastard sold me out. He was the only one who knew anything about it, and I had been _stupid_ enough to tell him I would have liked to be a Jedi, and _undisciplined_ enough to let him see me lose my temper.

He was going to pay. If I was going down, if the Empire had come to take me away and punish and possibly kill me, I was going to take him down with me.

I pulled free of my father's grasp and stormed angrily back into the melee of people. I heard my father calling my name from behind me and I realized he had begun to follow. I quickened my step, weaving in and out of people, keeping an eye out for the Stormtroopers, lest I be intercepted before I had my way with that arrogant lying bastard.

After a while of searching, I finally saw him. And wasn't that a pretty picture, he was arm in arm with that stupid blonde dog, Mairi. Wasn't life just perfect? They probably set me up. The two of them were a perfect pair. I pushed through the last of the crowd to get to them. I couldn't control my anger any longer and I reached up, put my hands on his back and shoved him from behind as hard as I could.

He whirled around and I saw his face turn from anger to shocked recognition when he saw me. “Lana!” He glanced quickly at Mairi and then back at me.

“Surprised to see me?” I asked angrily. “Did you expect they would have caught me already? Taken me away? Gotten me out of your hair by now?” I could hear my voice rising with each question but I was too far enraged to care.

“Bowen!” Mairi squealed unattractively. “She's frightening me!”

At that moment, my father decided to show up and grabbed my arm, trying to pull me away. “Come, Lana, let’s go home.”

I pulled back and shouted. “Not 'til he and I have it out!” I continued to pull against my father, who was trying to physically remove me from the scene. “You bastard, you said you were my friend!” I tried to ignore the fact that Mairi was cowering behind him now, one hand on his waist, the other on his arm, and the sick feeling it was giving me in the pit of my stomach. I tried to ignore the fact that it was something other than just anger and fear that was fueling my emotions. I tried to ignore the pleas from my father to just come with him. I continued to try and get at Bowen.

“I _am_ your friend, Lana.” His voice was strangely soothing and he looked like he was about to continue but before I could be taken in again, I shouted back at him.

“ _Right!_ I suppose that’s why there are Stormtroopers here looking for me. Because that’s what friends do. They sell each other out.”

The fear I saw in Bowen’s eyes almost convinced me of his innocence. “What? They’re looking for _you_?”

“Oh, save it,” I snapped.

“Lana, we must go,” my father continued to urge.

I was fighting a losing battle against my father's pull so I decided to force Bowen's hand. “ _You_ contacted them, didn't you?”

He reached out an appeasing hand towards me. “How could you even…?”

“No!” I shouted, smacking his hand away and narrowed my eyes. “I'll see you in hell, Bowen,” I growled at him before I turned, allowing my father to guide me home.


	8. Imperial Encounter

We never made it home.

The Stormtroopers caught up with us just outside the festival grounds. My father stood protectively in front of me and for once I was not offended by it. He reached out his open palms to the Stormtroopers, signaling that he had nothing to hide and would cooperate with them. Funny, since I knew that if he thought I was in danger, he most definitely would not.

The Imperial officer with them approached my father, who inclined his head respectfully. The man did not even glance in my direction.

“How may I help you…?” my father hesitated, waiting for an introduction.

“Lieutenant Childsen,” the man supplied, managing to appear both bored and vicious at the same time.

“It is an honor, Lieutenant,” my father answered and I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek, trying to focus on the pain in my mouth so perhaps I could stop shaking. “I am Commander Amorada of the Alderaan Royal Guard.”

I willed myself not to react, not to show any fear, but the fact that my father used his rank terrified me. He was “Faolan” to everyone, even those who he commanded in the guard, and I didn’t ever remember another time when he introduced himself like this.

“The honor is ours, Commander.” Lieutenant Childsen said, his mouth twitching into a barely perceptible sneer at my father’s title. “It is not often we find someone as remarkable as your daughter.”

My head swam with questions. Was he trying to lull me into a false sense of security with his flattery so I would be more easily captured? Did the agents of the Empire always lead with small talk before descending for the kill? Were the rumors of the Stormtroopers’ lack of skills with a blaster true; could I run like hell and make it away?

Lieutenant Childsen turned to me. “Your application and test scores showed an incredible aptitude for navigation and piloting. Your entrance essay was outstanding. You’ve turned a lot of the right heads, Miss Amorada. We are here to administer the practical portion of the application process; there’s a sim back on our ship, and if you pass that we would like to extend to you an invitation to attend the Imperial Academy.

I didn’t even move to glance at my father, struck dumb as I was by the Lieutenant’s near-robotically delivered speech. So they weren’t here because of the rock and the book? They were here because of my application to the Imperial Academy? But…

“I didn’t apply to the Imperial Academy,” I began hastily before I saw my father wince at my words. I backtracked. “I mean, it’s a great honor and all, but…”

Childsen smiled a sickly sweet condescending mockery of a smile and spoke deliberately slow. “You applied to Raithal Academy, which is part of the Imperial Academy.”

I would have taken offense at having been spoken to like an imbecile if my stomach hadn’t turned into one enormous knot. I stole a glance at my father and just barely caught a glimpse of him schooling a bewildered expression. I knew the exact thought that caused that look because I’d just had the same one: since when was Raithal controlled by the Empire?

“I understand your concern,” Childsen went on, speaking in a more conversational manner, “with the merge of all the various training facilities throughout the galaxy, but I can assure you, the Raithal Academy retains its same competitive selection process and rigorous curriculum. There has been no diminishment because of its association with other, less prestigious institutions. At the completion of your training it will be known, and clearly stated on your graduate diploma, that you have attended the Raithal Campus of the Imperial Academy so no mistake is made concerning your abilities and training.

It sounded over rehearsed, as if he’d had to give this same speech many times. I continued to stare mutely at him, unsure how to respond. Yes, I’d wanted to go to the Raithal Academy but I absolutely did not want to go to the Imperial Academy, after all I’d heard, not to mention what the Empire had done to my mother. But… how do you say no to the Empire?

The short answer to that is you didn’t.

My father took a step towards Childsen. “Would it be agreeable for Lana to take the sim tomorrow? You’ve come at a bad time since today is our Harvest Festival.” Childsen didn’t respond and my father quickly added, “If it’s not too much trouble.”

Childsen smiled his fake smile again. “No trouble at all, _Commander_. We have business in the palace to attend to anyhow.” He turned once more to me. “I shall come to retrieve you at 0800 tomorrow.”

I nodded, still unable to speak.

“Enjoy your festival,” he said to my father, the sneer in his voice falling just short of rude. He turned and walked away, motioning for the Stormtroopers to follow him. As one they turned and followed him down the path that led to the palace.

“Come,” my father hissed, “we shall discuss this later, but for now we must make a good show of attending the festival.”

“Okay,” I managed to whisper, and followed him down the path back towards the festival grounds.


	9. Apologies

My father stayed with me, probably longer than his job would have allowed under normal circumstances, until I felt calm enough to navigate the crowds on my own. I wanted nothing more than to go home and talk to him about what happened, what was going to happen, what his thoughts were about all this, but I understood the need to appear as if we really cared about attending this thing and not, as I had begun to suspect, that we were stalling for time.

I tried to push it out of my mind for the time being so I didn’t drive myself crazy and instead let my thoughts wander back to other more… oh forget it. I started thinking about Bowen. I couldn’t help it and, after the way our last encounter had gone, I needed to see him and, I suppose, make amends.

I found him sitting on a bench, facing away from me. Mairi must have left him for the time being because he was alone. I was not used to apologizing for my actions, and I was unsure how to act or what to say. I slowly walked towards him, trying to come up with appropriate words. By the time I reached him, none had come to mind.

I stood there silently behind him, working up my nerve for several moments before I called his name.

At the sound of my voice he jumped up from the bench and spun to face me.

“Lana!” He pulled me into a rough embrace, effectively knocking the wind out of me and confusing me beyond belief. He released me and took my arms in his hands, holding me away from him so he could look at me. His eyes were wild with fear and at first I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what the hell was wrong with him.

“Why are you still here? We need to get you out of sight. My house is closer if we need to…”

Oh right; the Stormtroopers were coming to take me away the last he’d heard. As realization dawned on me, Bowen looked frantically around the festival for the threat he still perceived.

“No, no it’s ok,” I tried to wriggle out of his grasp. “They’re here because of my application to the Academy.” I pushed down all the tumultuous thoughts surrounding that. There was no need to further complicate things right now.

Bowen released my arms and I saw the tension visibly leave his body. He sat back down on the bench and gazed off into the crowd.

Without looking at me, with tightly controlled anger in his voice, he said, “You applied to the Academy and yet your first thought when the Empire shows up is that I’d betrayed you.”

Momentarily taken aback by his quick change of demeanor – and remorseful for my wrongful accusations – I found myself nervously rubbing my palms on the sides of my legs. At a complete loss for words, I dropped my gaze to the ground.

“I don’t know what to say.”

After a silent moment I looked back up at him and he turned cold eyes on me.

“I’m sorry would be a good place to start.”

“I’m sorry, Bowen.”

He laughed bitterly. “You know, despite the accusations you threw at me, I was sick with worry ever since you and your father left.” I hung my head contritely as he continued, almost to himself. “I don’t know why I try. You’re a lost cause.”

Stung by his words, I felt my temper rise. “What is that supposed to mean?” He shook his head and looked away again, but not before I saw the hurt look in his eyes. What did he have to be hurt about? I had reacted completely within reason. “I kicked you out two weeks ago, we haven’t spoken since, and then Stormtroopers show up looking for me.”

He stood and turned to face me in one fluid movement. “It never even occurred to you there could be another reason for their presence,” he accused. “No. You immediately assumed I was trying to harm you in some way.”

“What was I supposed to think? We fight, we don’t speak for two weeks, and…and then you come here with that…that… _girl…_ ” I honestly don’t know what that last part had to do with anything, but there it was, coming out of my mouth nonetheless.

“What, would you have liked me to ask _you_?” He raised his eyebrows at me, waiting for an answer; challenging me, almost. What was I supposed to say to that?

“I don’t know. It would have been better than going with _her_.”

He scoffed. “You never cease to amaze me, Lana. You would want to go with me – someone you believe would _so easily_ betray you – just to prevent me going with someone you dislike.”

I thought about earlier; about the way it felt to see that evil girl touching him so familiarly. The way I felt when I believed he’d deceived me and ratted me out to the Imperials. I thought about telling him this, but decided against it.

“My point is why, when you’re here with someone who hates every fiber of my being, should I _not_ think you would betray me?”

But, then again, what good would it have done telling him how I felt, since at this point we were essentially just shouting over each other?

“She wouldn’t leave me alone, Lana…”

“I mean, yeah, I applied to Raithal…”

“…and remember, I was there in the library; I heard what they said to you...”

“…but I never applied to the Imperial Academy…”

“…so I thought, if anything, I could make your life easier…”

“… and how was I supposed to know the Empire took over every training facility…”

“… just by asking Mairi to go with me to the…”

Bowen stopped talking mid-sentence so I did too. He shook his head and frowned.

“Wait, what did you say?”

My hand flew to cover my mouth as I realized this public venue was definitely not the place to discuss this. I grabbed Bowen’s hand and pulled him down to sit next to me on the bench.

“Come over for dinner; my father and I are discussing everything then.”

I met Bowen’s wide eyes and something clicked. I realized, by how much fear and worry I saw, just how much he must’ve cared about me. I can’t say I understood it, being that we just met not that long ago, but I could at least believe it.

I dropped my eyes when I realized he was still grasping my hands. Suddenly nervous about this, I tried to pull them away, but he gripped them harder, causing me to look up at him. His eyes were thoughtful, and very sad.

“I am so, _so_ sorry for telling you about your mother. I’ve been kicking myself for the past two weeks. I hate that I caused you so much pain. Please believe me; I would never have brought it up if I hadn’t thought you already knew.”

“I know,” I said. And at that moment, I did. I smiled tentatively at him. “Friends?”

He smiled, his eyes crinkled, and I felt warm inside.

“Always,” he answered. 


End file.
